the bitter waiter

The four most disturbing people I served yesterday

1. Fat family of five

Dad strolled in wearing a T-shirt that said "I am Fartacus." They left before ordering because our kid's menu was too "fancy" for his army of Truffle-Shufflers. Mom was clad in a style reminiscent of family church directory photos from the late '80s.

2. The Pointer Sisters

Unable to communicate in any manner other than pointing or nodding, these Asian sisters made quite the presentation while ordering. We eventually established several non-verbal clues and their meanings. One nod meant "Everything is acceptable, American servant." Two nods and a grin meant, "This rotisserie chicken is succulent, cute white waiter." And a weak smile from me meant, "I anticipate your bad tip, friends of Hello Kitty."

3. Blissfully in love couple

Trumpets echoed and doves accompanied this euphoric couple as they announced to all that their love transcended anything we mere plebeians should ever hope to experience. Doting boyfriend trumped my question of "Anything to drink?" with "Isn't she the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

"At this booth, yes," I replied.

4. Wannabe celeb and her manorexic friend

Nothing screams "I'm someone" like wearing a pair of sunglasses indoors while dining. Not-Lindsay ordered in a tone that deftly mixed condescension with what must have been abdominal pain. Her anemic she-male comrade didn't look up from his Razr once and sucked iced tea like a West Hollywood bar regular. They split a salad and stayed for hours, discussing flat irons, sundresses, and someone named Chikezie.

With today being Cinco de Mayo, and yours truly working the middle of the battlefield, expect a particularly colorful entry tomorrow.

SHIT TIPPER OF THE WEEK AWARD

Some nights I know a bad tip is coming. I've either gone to no lengths to conceal my hatred for a table, something beyond my control has gone horribly wrong and I'm still to blame, or I can just tell from an educated yet politically incorrect gut feeling that a table will tip poorly.

Not so with Lamar Miller and Douglas Turner, a pair of seemingly polite and low-key gentlemen who ended up giving me one of the worst tips I've ever received (aside from being completely stiffed). I hope they both die and spend eternity drinking Satan's semen by the gallon in Hell.

Lamar, who barley had any semblance of a personality, arrived early with his grating girlfriend, a name-dropping wannabe who downed three glasses of white zinfandel like a mobile home housewife in the making. Her stupidity was only surpassed when Douglas and his equally idiotic girlfriend arrived. His girlfriend, the token chunky one, looked at me like I'd inquired about her menstruation history when I asked what she wanted to drink. What can I say? I ask those tough questions.

Nevertheless, I didn't immediately hate this harmless group. Despite their complete and absolute lack of taste and slightly off social skills, they were never rude. They were low maintenance and occasionally managed to say "please" and "thank you."

When it came time to tab out, they'd racked up a $134.99 tab. Douglas put $80 on his card and left no tip. In his defense, I'm assuming that was because Lamar, in all his numerical brilliance, was supposed to put the remaining $54.99 on his card, as well as the tip for the entire check.

Lamar left a $5 tip. I made $5 on a $134.99 check. Never leave the math to a stereotype.

I chased them down to the parking lot and asked "Was everything okay with the service?" with a tone that more appropriately intimated "Which one of you wants to offer your head as an appropriate sacrifice?"

All four of the village idiots looked at me with stone-cold stupid stares and ad-libbed "Yeah," "Everything was a great," "Super," like extras on a Brady Bunch episode.

Had it been a group of fundamentally decent human beings, they would have sensed the problem. But no. These four Mensa members dashed off, no doubt heading to another bar to spread their toxic ignorance and breathtakingly bad tips. I can only hope they all died in a car accident, Death Proof style, on their way.

Alas, I'm sure they'll return. And I'll be waiting.